His Many Masks *The Boy fan fiction*

Chapter Twenty Three

I've hungered for your touch a long lonely time. 
                                                         - Righteous Brothers

****Warning, the following chapter contains light sexual intimacy and  depictions of nudity please skip if you are uncomfortable as it is in the last part of this chapter*****

I ran my fingers gently through Brahms' curled locks. His downy soft hair fluffed as I tousled it around his head. Evenings like these were our new norm; Brahms and I were practically inseparable these days and I personally yearned for his presence.

"Brahms?" I asked, focusing intently on braiding a few of his curls.

"Hmm?" His voice was cracked and deep from sleep.

"Are you scared?" I stopped playing with his hair and gently laid my hands on his head devoting my full attention to our conversation.

"Of what?" He asked groggily.

"Of the future," I said. He knew what I meant, the cops, us, our situation...

"Nothing scares me anymore Kátalin, I've seen enough to know that certain things that happen you can't prevent or change."

The flatness in his tone told me he wasn't interested in talking further on the subject. Who could blame him? No one wanted to worry about the future when they were as content with the present as he was.

I sat back and sighed, "we haven't heard from the police in a while, did you call them?"

"No."

I knew he didn't, and his answer still sent small goosebumps trickling down my arms and legs. The thought of the police left me fearfully paralyzed.

I knew there was nothing either one of us could do about the situation, Brahms was dead, and I was a runaway murderer. There was no bright side. It was only a matter of time before everything would catch up to us both. I wasn't ready.

Brahms shifted and sat up, "you worry too much. We have each other, what more do we need?"

I knew he was right, but it was easier said than done. Two people against the world was an unfair match.

I nodded at him, I didn't have the energy to argue and thinking about all of it just made it worse.

"Let's see if the post came hmm?" Brahms asked, hoping I'd be distracted a little.

I smiled and stood up, "I'll go get it."

I grabbed one of the thick coats hanging up on a hanger beside the back door and pulled it on over my sweater which was two sizes too big. Wearing Brahms' old clothes was definitely not the best idea for someone an entire foot shorter than him.

I opened the door, and stalked outside. The walk to the gate was long and my head was filled with worrisome thoughts. I was waiting for a police cruiser to come rolling down the road to take me away, or worse. Find Brahms.

After quickly sticking my hand in the post box, I pulled out three letters, one addressed to Brahms, and two addressed to a "Greta Evans". A small twinge of jealousy sparked in my gut, who was this Greta? Was she related to Brahms? A former lover? And acquaintance? Confused, I tucked them under my arm and started back towards the house.

I was tempted to open the letters addressed to Greta and read them myself, but ultimately decided not to snoop. I would find out who she was soon enough.

Once I got back to the house, I placed "Greta's" letters on the island, and handed Brahms his letter in the library.

"For me?" He asked puzzled, his eyes radiated slight worry before he saw who had addressed the letter; his parents. His expression then changed, and he slowly tore open the envelope.